Shatter
by een nihc
Summary: Because you'll never know when will everything shatters. But even so there is always hope.[epilogue written for vampirepenguin's “Dream Come True”]


The more I sat down and thought about vampirepenguin's fic "Dream Come True", the more I wanted to see Shikamaru's wife reaction to what had happened and how she would deal with the aftermath of his death in that fanfic. No particular spoilers here, but this takes place immediately after vampirepenguin's fic, and won't make much sense if you haven't read it - so you definitely should! Look up, "Dream Come True" by vampirepenguin, it's well worth your time.

* * *

Shatter

* * *

It's your son's birthday. He's finally turning eight years old today. You bake him a chocolate cheese cake – his favourite cake. "Happy birthday, Shoichi." You kiss his forehead. But all he asks for is his daddy. "Daddy will come home tonight, right?" He wrote his daddy a letter a week ago. His daddy should've received it by now. So together, you wait for his daddy to come back. 

Eight, ten, twelve o'clock… his daddy still hasn't show up. Shoichi ends up crying himself to sleep. You tug him to bed and dry his tears silently. He ain't coming home tonight.

You're about to doze off when someone comes knocking on your door in the middle of the night. You open the door warily. It's a face that you recognize, but fail to find the name that match the face. You remember that you were introduced to that man once during your wedding. He is one of your husband's comrades. An Inuzuka, you guess, judging from the red stripes on his cheeks and the dog smell that clings to his skin.

"Sorry to wake you up this late," the shinobi bows his head low apologetically. You pull your kimono together tighter. The air in the night is colder than usual. You wait for him patiently until he speaks again.

"I regret to say that… we have lost your husband." He speaks slowly, grimly. His voice is trembling slightly – so is your body. You can't stop trembling because you can feel the cold shooting down your spine.

Just then, you are interrupted – you can hear your eight-year-old son's little footsteps stepping out from his bedroom follow by his voice. He calls out, "Daddy! Is that you?" The excitement in his voice is almost unbearable.

"No," somehow you manage to find your voice and say, "Go back to sleep, Shoichi."

He pouts and protests, "But Mama…"

"I said go back to sleep! Now!"

Your son stands there, startles for a second. Then he shouts, "I hate you!" You just stand there and watch numbly as your son runs back to his bedroom and slams his door.

"It's late. Can we wait till tomorrow?" You just want to be left alone at that moment. You assume that the shinobi understands because he merely nods and leaves shortly. You shut the door, walk towards your son's room and halt in front of his door. You can hear his sobs inside. You don't think you can take any more of this. So you walk past his room and head to your own room instead.

As you walk past your daughter's room, you pretend not to notice that her door isn't shut tightly. You crawl back to your bed and lie there. Touching the empty side of bed, the bed suddenly feels too large, too cold for you. He ain't coming home tonight, tomorrow night, or the following nights. He ain't coming home _ever_.

You want to cry but no tears come to your eyes. Ten years of marriage. Before you met him, you never dared to dream to have a family to call your own. Who would have guessed a genius shinobi like him would've picked a plain civilian girl like you? He is a good husband and a good father. You couldn't ask for more from him. But somewhere in your heart, you secretly doubt if you were good enough for him, if there's someone out there who is prettier, smarter, better than you who deserved him better.

Your mind can't help but keep wondering about the things that you couldn't do or didn't do for him. You couldn't understand what was in his mind when you were the one who was supposed to understand him best. You couldn't comprehend the sadness in his eyes that was there even when he smiled. You couldn't share the burden that weighed him down a little more each time he came back from a mission. You couldn't ease away his pain every time he lost yet another comrade.

You didn't kiss him back and tell him that you loved him when he kissed you on the cheek before leaving that day. The kids were there. It wasn't appropriate. And so you tried to smile back to him instead. Watching him turn his back and leave, you suddenly realized for the first time just how lonely he seemed to be. His shoulder slouched as if there was an invincible weight on it. You wanted to call out to him but you hesitated for a second. Because of that second, you had missed the chance to say whatever that you wanted to say – he had disappeared around the corner, and out of your life forever.

You didn't send him a letter while he guarded the entire northern border. You knew he was alright when you heard that they had started pushing back the Sound under his leadership. He was a genius after all. He could take care of himself. And you didn't want him to worry unnecessarily. Lousy excuses.

If only you had tried, would it make a difference? How are you supposed to know where the line between trying too hard and not trying hard enough is? You are no genius. And you hate yourself for that.

* * *

On the morning of his funeral, you make sure that Shoichi wakes up early enough, eats and finishes his breakfast; you tug his shirt neat and tie his shoelace that morning. You don't worry about Shikako though. She is big enough to take care of herself. Besides, she won't appreciate your efforts even if you offer to help her get ready. She is just like her father – disliking bothering or being bothered by others. 

The war continues. Few people attend the funeral (because the dead couldn't and most of the living were on the battlefield). But the Sixth himself attends. You don't pay any attention to the Sixth's speech during the ceremony. Instead, you look up to the sky and watch the clouds as they shift and change shapes with the wind in the sky.

The clouds are nice that day – white, light and fluffy. It is a perfect day to spend doing nothing except cloud-watching. Shika used to indulge his lazy afternoons like that a lot, you remember fondly. You are drifting in your thoughts until your daughter's voice pulls you back to reality. "Mum, the ceremony is over," she reminds you.

A reddish brown haired man approaches you right after the funeral. Shikako shifts her position and stands protectively in front of you before you realize it.

"Who are you? You're not from this village." Shikako eyes him warily.

"How do you know I'm not?"

"Your hair. Red heads are unusual in our village. I don't recall seeing one."

She is just as sharp as her father. You never feel prouder as a mother.

"Hn. You have got some potential, girl. Just like your father."

"You knew my father?" Shikako's eyes widened when she hears the stranger mention her father like an old friend.

"Yeah. I'm Kankurou from the Sand. May I have a word with you privately, Mrs. Nara?"

You agree and both of you walk to a quieter spot. The stranger surprises you when he suddenly drops to his knees right in front of you and bows his head.

"I have a favour to ask of you, Mrs. Nara. And I know what I'm about to ask of you is unfair to you but I beg you for this." You can sense that his voice is honest.

"What is it?" you ask warily.

"It was my sister's last wish to be buried besides your husband's grave."

"Why?"

"For your own good, it's best you didn't know, Mrs. Nara."

You have had enough of this for the past few days. A ridiculous rumour has been spreading like wildfire in the village - that when they found Shika, there was another body beside him, a kunoichi's. Rumour has it that she was a kunoichi from the Sand. That, you can deal with. But you start losing it when some idiots say they died together, hugging like lovers.

Of course you didn't believe them. Rumours are just that - rumours and nothing more. It can't hurt you except when they are true. No, it can't be true. You know your husband. You trust him even after his death. Shika would never do that to you.

"I demand to know. Either say it or leave it." You leave him no options.

He hesitant for a moment before he answers, "If you must know, it's because she loved him. They had loved each other a long time."

"I don't believe you."

"It's true."

"Don't say it."

"I guess it's a 'no' then." He sighs and gets up slowly.

"Sorry and thank you for your time, Mrs. Nara."

He walks away and leaves you standing there, rooted to the ground for a long time.

"Mum, what's wrong? What did he say to you?"

You don't answer your daughter. All you can hear is the stranger's voice which keeps ringing in your head, "…because she loved him. They had loved each other a long time."

* * *

You seldom speak for the following days after the funeral. You need time to contemplate on everything that has happened. And you start to pack Shika's belongings and store them in the store room. As you flip through the family album, you notice how rarely he took pictures and even if he did, he seldom smiled in it. 

There is one particular picture that never fails to makes you chuckle every time you look at it. It was a candid picture of him trying to feed Shikako but got himself spat by a mouth full of porridge instead. When you look at that picture, you won't think that he's a genius. He was merely a father.

And then you realize something – this marriage wasn't for nothing. He chose to marry you despite loving another. He gave you two beautiful kids. He cared for you and he loved the kids. All these years, he had been burying his true feelings and given his best for the sake of the family. Maybe it is time you do one last thing for him in return.

* * *

On the top of the hill before sunset, you open the lid of a porcelain urn and spread the ashes towards the valley. The man who stands besides you does the same. As the wind blows, the ashes from the two urns mingle and dance together in the air. 

Time seems to halt as you stand there watching silently and waiting until the wind dies completely. And as you stand so, your hand and his meet and clasp, though you don't know it yet.

Maybe, just maybe, there is something that Shika is trying to tell you as he watches you from somewhere above the clouds.

_It's time to live and love again. _

* * *

A/N: Many thanks to vampirepenguin for allowing me to continue her story. I hope those who have read hers will enjoy this fic as well. And also I must thank my beta-reader for her wonderful input of ideas to the story. Thank you for reading. 


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